Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the kitchen, a comforting scent that always brought a smile to Thomas's face. He hummed a tuneless melody as he spread butter on a warm slice, the simple action a balm to his soul.

A polite rap on the back door. It was Mr. Peterson, his hands clasped awkwardly in front of him.

"Thomas, I... uh... well, my back garden's a bit small, and I was wondering..." His voice trailed off.

Thomas swallowed a mouthful of bread. "Of course, Mr. Peterson. Take as much space as you need. How about the sunny spot near the oak tree?" He felt a sense of openness toward his neighbor.